My Story

I am mexican.
born in mexico, guadalajara mx. to be exact.. came to the US when i was about 1 year old. Dont remember too much but do remember the yearly trips our family would make back to guadalajara. Great times and times i wont forget., I always remembered how slow life was there instead of here, how those 2 weeks we would be there each year seemed as 2 months. life was slow and people were always happy..some were poor but still happy. Happy because they still held onto the mexican family values we here in the US sometimes lost along the way. i remember going to visit an aunt and uncle and cousins and what not and remember them living in a big one room house. some of the curtains were the walls that seperated each room including the restroom. yet when we got there just my mom and i at this point as the rest of my family was visiting other family members. i remember them dropping all of their chores and my aunt calling my uncle to leave early and them taking out their finer dinnerware because they had guests and they made us feel special. one would want to feel bad for them or sorry for them, but somehow they had alot more than we had here. they had love and a true family bond. i guess this is where my story focuses on me as a mexican american growing up in southern california.
growing up we lived in the lower mid class east of los angeles suburbs. father worked, mother stayed home to take care of us. mom often worked as a seamstress in a factory to make ends meet. we used to go with her from time to time when no one could babysit.
growing up around the area i did, we really only hung out with other mexican kids. i mean we had one or two black or white kids in the neighborhood that you would want to befriend just to say you had a friend from another race.. craxy how our little minds think back then.
went to a predominantly hispanic high school and remember how when we were out and about wiht my parents, we would chit chat to each other in english so our parents wouldnt know what we were talking about until your parents start picking up words as years go by and then one day they talk back to you and the secret is no more. i remember being embarrassed when they would have parties at our house and vicente fernandez, los bukis, old school stuff like los terricolas would be heard down the street. id stay in my house just too embarrassed to go outside.. my mindset back then was oh my god, my parents are sooo mexican.. lol

graduated high school and like the rest of the class or close friend wanted to attend jc and college and settle on any job thats not what i wanted. i needed out and i needed out right there and then.. i wanted to see the world, i needed to be free in a sense.

joined the military for about 4 years and traveled alot. meet some really really cool people along the way that made me realize that embracing who i was, where i came from and my culture was something that you had to hold on as it shaped who i was meant to be.
i often tried to Americanize myself in order to feel accepted, lost the spanish accent, dressed as i thought i would be accepted and even began to think that maybe i was more american than mexican. left the military and came back home to my roots so to speak.

as i got older, and closer to my mother and father i began to realize that i was exactly and almost identical to them, the way they thought the way they just where. As i got older i began to embrace who i really was, my culture.. i wasnt embarrassed to hear mexican music, to throw a grito on September 16th, to say can i get some tapatio at chillis .. lol we have so many things that make our heritage special, when we forget where we come from we are essentially denying ourselves a chance to grow and be who we initially were meant to be. now i speak spanish to anyone that speaks it to me, ill be the one with the mexico jersey when we play the US and then get mad when they lose ..LOL ill be the one that roots for las CHIVAS even though ive never seen them live.. I am proud to be mexican . i am proud of how i see my culture now and i now embrace it as i used to embrace my american side. dont get me wrong i sometimes still go surfing and rock it out to a good punk rock concert.. but hey, the mexican in me will always be alive and kicking. ..

ok sorry its soooo logn just needed to write somethign as im bored and well u know.. :)

Thank you so much friend.. im glad you liked the story.. i ended it pretty quickly as i was multitasking at work. and yes i have heard el piporro and cafe tacuba at our parties..lol <br /><br />sometimes we get caught up in the whole work hard play hard and live hard way of life here. we tend to forget the part that is most important in our lives..our family. they are the ones that carry us when we are down and out and they are the ones that will be there when we fall and no one else will pick us up. when my mom says dinner is ready you better be at the table.. no eating in the living room or later.. "esto no es un restaurante, aqui se come cuando yo sirvo" i can hear her say.<br /><br />oh and don't let my dad hear that you're an americanista.. jk jk .. thanks for reading my story :)

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